The Thirteenth Doctor
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: Tumblr Whouffle Prompt: Can you write a story about the Doctor regenerating into the body of one of Clara's echoes? So now Clara (the real one) has to live with the Doctor (who's also Clara) and she still has very confusing romantic feelings towards him?


The regeneration didn't happen like it had before, but Clara felt less prepared. She watched the golden energy begin to float out from his palms and out through his collar and he smiled, giving her a nod of reassurance and raising his hand to warn her to back away. He hadn't expelled the explosive energy the way he had before either, he'd simply succumbed to poison – slowly, over the course of days, not telling her as he continued to save the planet, and herself, from destruction.

"It'll be fine, Clara," he told her quietly, "Might be a bit dodgy at first," he rocked his head to tell her.

She managed a laugh, "Remember that part; the fighting and your stubbornness."

"_My_ stubbornness?" He repeated pointedly and then he winced, hand flicking upwards again when she took a step towards him, telling her, "I don't want to hurt you."

Sniffling hard, she shook her head, "You _never_ could, not _really_."

"Oh, but I have," he cried sadly, and in that instance, his head jerked back and Clara ducked down as a shower of sparkles shot out from every exposed bit of him.

Closing her eyes, she waited, listening while wincing as he screamed and the voice changed. It was quick, from his deep strangled cry to something lighter, something so young and for a moment, she feared he'd turned into a child. It couldn't be possible, she thought to herself – except she knew anything was possible, but when she opened her eyes to watch him snap his head forward to turn and look for her, she found herself staring at absolutely that.

The impossible.

Or, more specifically, the impossible girl.

"My stars," Clara whispered, staring at her own face as it looked back at her, a weak smile lifting the right corner of her lips across from her. "You've got my face."

The Doctor nodded, "Staring right at it," she said, then raised a hand to her throat and then pulled at her hair, yanking it down in front of her face to shout, "Oh, this time I _am_ a girl!" And then add, "And still not ginger," she raised a finger, "Girls dye their hair. It's customary. It's normal." She smiled, "It's expected."

"So you'll be ginger me," Clara said slowly.

"Ginger you," the Doctor laughed, stumbling slightly and Clara jumped forward, catching her and righting her, freezing when the Doctor brought a hand up to her face, caressing it gently and telling her, "Always here to catch me, aren't you."

Looking her over, Clara half laughed as the Doctor pulled her into a tight hug.

"Oh, I'm short as well," the Doctor muttered in her ear. "You'll have to teach me… oh, so many things, Clara. So many things! Height, heels – oh heels, I know I'll hate heels. Wore them a couple times on whimsy, the ones in the wardrobe, never a good fit. Wait, they'll fit now. Proper fitted heels on these legs," she backed away, pulling up on the pant legs that hung loosely against her body. "Oh, I have nice legs. Familiar legs," she glanced up.

"My legs," Clara told her.

She smiled back, "Your Doctor, still, Clara. I promise, always."

"No," Clara said, giving her a shake of her head and pointing, "Literally my legs, you're me."

The Doctor let out a loud laugh, strange coming from her face, and then she turned and looked at the console and gave a quick shout, "Well isn't that… interesting."

"How do you have my face?"

Thinking a moment, fingers tapping absently at the side of her head, she planted the other hand at her waist and then pointed at her, "You, it's your fault. All on the mind, all over the mind, in the mind, oh… the mind," she stumbled again and Clara caught her, falling to the console floor with her cradled in her lap. "Mind's a bit busy. Rebuilding. Think I lost another language, but you, no, always room for Clara," she smiled.

Clara smiled down at her, smoothing the hair out of the Doctor's face and she asked quietly, "Still my Doctor in there though, right?"

"Ah, you know it's still me, still the man you love to hate." She laughed softly, "Woman you love to hate, I suppose – with your face, quite fitting."

Giving a nod, Clara closed her eyes as the Doctor reached up to touch her cheek again, nudging her softly with a knuckle and she chuckled, bending to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Always will be."


End file.
